


Teardrops On My Guitar

by Tgaret990



Series: SPN Reader Inserts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also I'm still upset that they killed Mick, And deeply in love with our poor oblivious reader, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/M, Happy Ending, Mick Davies is an absolute gentleman, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Reader, Something to heal my aching feels, Strangely enough, The idea came to me while reviewing s12 episodes okay?, Who's crushing even harder than Mick, guitar playing, not my best work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tgaret990/pseuds/Tgaret990
Summary: Reader and Mick Davies were surprisingly fast friends when the Winchesters introduced them, and the two often work cases together. Reader has the biggest crush on Mick, but is extremely shy about it. Feels ensue, guitars are played, songs are sung, and a misunderstanding is finally cleared up.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Mick deserved better and I needed something to lift my spirits today. "Teardrops on My Guitar" came up on my Spotify as I was doing some research for another fic and this idea came to me.

Teardrops On My Guitar 

Part One

 

A/N:  Inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Teardrops On My Guitar”. Also, it’s 3 A.M., so… Not proof-read. Part two will be up after I get some sleep.

  


    You sighed as you and Mick returned from yet another successful hunt. The boys emerged from the kitchen when they heard the bunker door open, looking up at you and Mick.

 

    “Well? How did it go?” Sam asked as the two of you came down the steps to join them.

 

    “Excellent, though I’m sure I wouldn’t be standing here if Y/n hadn’t been there.” You blushed as all eyes turned to you at the statement. You gave Mick a nervous smile before quickly looking away. You weren’t the most talkative of people. Hell, the boys had barely gotten you to speak more than a few sentences to them the first time you met! Your guitar was all the company you needed most times… And maybe Mick.

 

    “It was nothing,” you mumbled.

 

    “I wouldn’t call clearing out a room full of werewolves nothing,” Mick told you, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

    “How many?” he asked.

 

    “Ten, I believe. I got one or two on my own, but Y/n managed to get the rest of them and one sneaking up behind me before I could even blink.”

 

    “That’s our girl,” Dean praised you with a smile, Sam nodding with an equally proud smile.

 

    You’d been alone since you were a child. Your parents were hunters and raised you in the life before they were kidnapped before your very eyes one evening. Since then, you’d been searching for them, a photo album, guitar, sheet music book, and a few pencils the only things to your name at the time. You hunted, made allies with all sorts of creatures both deadly and harmless, and scrounged up a living playing guitar and singing on the road. Eventually, you saved up enough money for a backpack, then a phone. You scavenged for weapons and tools, even got some from the few friends you’d made.

 

    A vampire friend had gifted you a new leather jacket for your birthday once. A shifter friend hooked you up with a few contacts who sold weapons to kill the supernatural. A witch friend put a few spells on your guitar so that it would be invulnerable to aging and damage. And of course your parents had hunter friends who taught you a lot of what you knew. From there, you built up quite the reputation for yourself, earning the nickname The Assassin. Eventually, the name caught the attention of the Winchesters, who sought you out in the middle of one of your cases.

 

    Once you’d rescued a few hostages from a group of Djinns together, the boys asked you to come with them on the road, at least so they could help you find a place to stay that wasn’t your car. You politely refused their help at first before Sam finally convinced you. You were reluctant to tag along, not much of a people person in all honesty and too used to being alone and always on the road. As time went on, however, you kept coming up with excuses as to why you had to stick around, be that another case, or making sure Dean didn’t drown himself in whiskey and Sam actually got some sleep every once in a while. By the time you told them the actual reason that you didn’t want to leave, that you felt like you finally had a home again and a second family, you were practically living with them in the bunker, and they were more than happy to offer you a permanent room. It had been a few years now, and you considered the boys your big brothers, and they thought of you as a little sister.

 

    Enter the British Men of Letters, who you didn’t trust for a second, all except for one man. Sam’s rescue had completely blown any chances of you considering the BMOL allies, but Mick… Mick was something else. From the moment your eyes met his, you knew he was different, that there was something about him that set him apart from the rest of his colleagues. After a few failed attempts at recruiting American hunters, except for Mary, he came to you, but with a different approach. Without knowing why, you said yes before he could even finish his spiel, and the two of you had been partners ever since.

 

XxX

 

     _You joined Mick on the rooftop of the hotel he was staying at, leaning against the railing and directing your gaze up towards the stars like he was. You observed them for a while with a soft smile, listing off the constellations you noticed in your head, wondering just how many there were out there and if you could find a better view in the city._

 

_“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked, the first words he’d spoken directly to you. You hummed in response._

 

_“Especially tonight,” you told him. It had, after all, been the first non-rainy night on over a week. You finally looked at him for the first time since that brief meeting in Aldrich. He was without his suit jacket and shoes, dress slacks and a slightly unbuttoned shirt his only articles of clothing. He looked relaxed, at peace even, as his gaze was fixed to the sky, and you felt reluctant to break the spell that seemed to be over him. “Why did you call me here, Mr. Davies?”_

 

_“Mick, please,” he told you, looking at you now with somewhat nervous eyes. “And I think you already know why.” You smiled softly._

 

_“Hit me with the speech anyway.” He opened then closed his mouth, letting out a sigh and looking away._

 

_“I know you don’t trust us and that there’s nothing I can really do to change your mind, but… I’m not trying to recruit you.” You quirked an eyebrow._

 

_“Then why am I here?”_

 

_“As a part of the British Men of Letters, I have access to information and technology I’m sure you and the Winchesters could only dream of, and while I know you prefer to work alone I thought I might… Offer my services as a hunting partner. No reporting to the higher ups, no obligations to the organization—_

 

_“No more hunts with Ketch,” you threw in nonchalantly, causing both of you to laugh softly._

 

_“No more hunts with Ketch,” he agreed. “And someone you can rely on outside of your boys,” he finished. You considered his words carefully, trying to pick up on any ill intent or deceit, before responding._

 

_“Why me?” you finally asked. “Why offer me, of all people, an exclusive “Mick only” opportunity and not anyone else?”_

 

_“Because of your eyes,” he answered unexpectedly. This response startled you, and him it seemed, and he scrambled to explain himself. “And what I mean by that,” he began a bit frantically, “Is that I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider in a world determined to make you fit in. You’re good at what you do, and it’s like there’s no other job you’d be better at, but you feel like there’s more out there for you than serving the rules that have governed your entire life. You want to make a difference your way, and you’re more than just what people see. And even though you’re surrounded by friends and colleagues and people who care about you… You feel—_

 

_“Alone,” you finished for him, not able to meet his eyes as a whirlwind of emotions swept through you. “Like you’re trapped, like you’re living a life someone else wrote for you.”_

 

_“And all you want is to meet someone who understands how you feel.” You met his eyes then, and you could finally explain what you felt that first day. Mick understood what kind of life you’d led thus far, certainly not the hunting part, but the personal struggle you’d dealt with every day. “Someone who will help you break the chains on your freedom.” You knew then that you had your answer._

 

_“Yes,” you told him without anymore hesitation, barely a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear._

 

_“Pardon?” he asked, dumbstruck._

 

_“Yes,” you told him more firmly. “Let’s be hunting partners.” He looked at you in astonishment._

 

 _“I didn’t think you’d even give me the light of day,” he admitted. You looked in his eyes,_ **_really_ ** _looked in them, and it was as if you could see a younger, lost looking version of Mick, adhering to the BMOL code despite the moral conflicts within, being a part of a life he never wanted after losing almost everything he held dear. You knew you’d made the right choice as you held out a hand for him to shake._

 

_“To new beginnings,” you told him happily, “And a beautiful friendship.” He shook it after a moment._

 

_“To new beginnings,” he echoed, a warm smile on his face._

 

XxX

 

    Ever since that night, the two of you had been an unstoppable team, rivaling even the boys and Mary and Ketch after a time. Sure, the first few hunts had been an… Experience, to say the least, and Mick was still a bit rough around the edges in the field, but there’s no one you’d rather have watching your back. You were a pretty well rounded hunter if you did say so yourself, but it was nice having a study buddy (yes, that’s what you called him; he laughed the first time he heard it too) to split researching with, and someone who knew quite a bit of spell and ritual work. And who knew Mick was useful in weapon repair?

 

    Even more than that was his company. The two of you could sit in hours of comfortable silence, able to communicate without words sometimes. Conversations never felt forced, and when you had conversations, you had **conversations**. Castiel had once walked in on the two of you debating the usefulness of angel blades versus some sort of fancy knife the BMOL R&D had recently crafted. The debate had been fairly intriguing and evenly matched… Until the two of you had actually started “fighting” with the blades, ending up in a fit of giggles before long. You don’t think he ever looked so amused concerning Mick before then.

 

    What warmed your heart the most, however, was his willingness to listen to you. Now, before Mick, Castiel had been your main confidant. Cas never judged you, and he never let his personal feelings interfere with his advice (though he did add in an, “Even though I don’t like it,” or “Despite what I think is best,” if he had a strong opinion on the matter). The only downside was that he wasn’t always around, and you had your fair share of bad days when he was off on a case a few states away, or checking in on Heaven. Sam was a great listener, and generally understanding, but you didn’t like seeing the worry or, Chuck forbid, disappointment in his eyes when you told him about something you were especially not proud of. And Dean… Well, Dean was Dean.

 

    Mick, though, did not hesitate to ask what was wrong or if you were okay. For some reason, he could **always** tell when something was up with you, and at first it was annoying, especially when you wanted to be left alone. You felt worse when you were alone though, and the second you realized that you went right back to him and apologized, and he would sit next to you and be a comforting presence, listening and letting you vent if you needed to. He always seemed to know what to say, even if it wasn’t necessarily what you wanted to hear, and how could one not be soothed by his accent and his hugs?  

 

    Your point was, Mick was a great hunter and eventually a great friend, a best friend. And that was the problem. Mick was your best friend, and you may or may not have fallen for him. **Hard**. And how could you not? He had such a wonderful personality, and the two of you were practically inseparable. Not to mention, he was pretty hot… It was your crush that was making things, for the first time since you’d met, awkward between the two of you, and unfortunately it was extremely noticeable to everyone. Dean teased you relentlessly, Sam tried subtly encouraging you to tell Mick how you felt, Castiel combated Sam by telling you not to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, and Mick worried over you.

 

    You tried to ignore your feelings, distract yourself, **anything** to get them off your mind, but then Mick had to go and say that he’d met someone that had absolutely stolen his heart, and that’s when you felt yours shatter into a million pieces.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader doesn't know what to do with her feelings, and remains as oblivious as ever. Mick finally figures out what's been going on with her.

Part Two

 

A/N: This might be a mess. I don't know. I'm trying.

 

 

_ Mick looks at me, I _

_ Fake a smile so he won’t see _

_ What I want, what I need, and _

_ Everything that we should be _

 

_ I bet she’s beautiful _

_ That girl he talks about, and _

_ She’s got everything that I have to live without _

 

    The ride to the next town was silent, uncomfortably so, and had been for the last hour. You chalked it up to your memories of dinner last night. 

 

_   Mick had cooked, as was custom when the two of you got back from a hunt no matter how much you insisted that you could, and had started up a conversation with the boys. When Dean, much to Sam’s chagrin, teased Mick one too many times about needing to loosen up and live a little, Mick had shocked the entire kitchen when he said, “I’ve met someone actually. She’s smart, charming, and she knows how to have a good time when it’s just the two of us.” That had everyone, including you, stunned, and you hoped they would change the subject, and that the uncomfortable look in your eyes wasn’t obvious. Dean, however, wasn’t having that, and he just kept asking questions. _

 

_     “When’d you meet her?” he asked, taking a sip of beer as he made his plate. Sam sent him a glare, aware of your expression, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. _

 

_     “Around the same time I met you, actually. She was… A nice change from all the American hunters I’d met previously.” _

 

_     “She a hunter then?” _

 

_     “One of the best, I’d say.” _

 

_     “And you like her?” _

 

_     “I was hopeless the moment I first saw her. I’d like to say I’ve fallen in love with her.” It was at that moment that you couldn’t stay in the kitchen another second. Pushing your chair back, you grabbed a slice of pie and put it on your plate before quietly excusing yourself from the table. You quickly walked to your room, ignoring the hurried footsteps behind you. You burst through the door before shutting it swiftly behind you, a lock and a few wards keeping everyone out for the rest of the night. He’d met someone. Mick had  _ **_met someone_ ** _. You couldn’t wrap your head around it, and it plagued your thoughts until you fell into a restless sleep. _

 

    And now here you were the next day, positively moping about it. You let out a sigh, eyes fixed on the empty road in front of you. After a moment you looked at him to see him staring out of the window, lost in thought, his brows furrowed in that normal adorable way when he was thinking. After another few minutes he shook himself out of his thoughts, and you felt his eyes on you. You looked over with your best conjured up smile and he returned one, though you could see the sadness in his eyes as clearly as he could probably see it in yours. Your eyes quickly returned to the road, and you cursed the blush you felt on your cheeks.

 

    “Listen, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I shouldn’t have—

 

    “It’s alright,” you told him, even though you knew it wasn’t. “The look on Dean’s face was worth it.”

 

    “You had the same look he did,” Mick reminded you. “I should’ve asked you if it was okay to—

 

    “It’s fine, really,” you insisted. “I’m happy when you’re happy,” you told him honestly. “I just didn’t expect you to announce that at dinner.” You glanced in his direction and saw how sheepish he looked. Glancing back at the road, one hand was on the steering wheel while the other worried the zipper on your leather jacket. You were surprised when you felt a hand gently take yours.

 

    “Are we okay, then?” he asked nervously, though you couldn’t fathom why.

 

    “Of course we are,” you answered, squeezing his hand softly. He let out a relieved breath, and it wasn’t until the two of you got to the hotel that you noticed he hadn’t let go.

 

XxX

 

_ Mick talks to me, I _

_ Laugh ‘cuz it’s just so funny _

_ And I can’t even see _

_ Anyone when he’s with me _

 

_ He says he’s so in love _

_ He’s finally got it right _

_ I wonder if he knows he’s all I think about at night? _

  
  


    You had to push your shot glass away before you spilled whiskey everywhere as you clutched your sides, laughing harder than you had in years. Neither of you could really get words out at this point, much less breathe, as Mick attempted to finish his story.

 

    “A-A-And Ketch couldn’t— He c-couldn’t even look me in the eye f-for w-weeks!” Mick tried, and failed, to take a deep breath, letting out another chuckle before he could get his breathing semi under control. You let out a happy sigh when you could finally speak again.

 

    “And how can he look you in the eye now?” you asked mischievously, a smirk on your face, imagining what you’d just been told.

 

    “Because he knows that I can completely dismantle his reputation with just a few words. As tempting as it is sometimes, though, I don’t know if I could do it,” he admitted.

 

    “You’re too good of a person to stoop to his level, Mick,” you told him with a soft smile, finally picking up your glass again. The two of you hadn’t really dropped by the bar to get drunk so much as to enjoy each other’s company outside of your hotel room, and sip a few good drinks while you were at it. You’re glad you did, because you wouldn’t have gotten to see the sparkle in his eye when he laughed, how his grin lit up the room, how relaxed and unguarded he seemed to be. You threw back the shot then, eliciting a soft laugh from Mick.

 

    “I’ve really enjoyed tonight,” he told you happily.

 

    “There’s no one I’d rather spend it with,” you replied as he threw back his own drink. 

 

    “I can tell. How did you ignore all of the stares?” You scrunched up your face in confusion.

 

    “What stares?” He gaped at you for a moment. 

 

    “Practically every guy here has stared at you at some point tonight. Have… Have you really not noticed?” You decided to go out on a limb when you responded.

 

    “How can I when I have such a handsome devil sitting across from me?” you asked, blushing when you realized what you said. You didn’t know if it was liquid courage or if you were just done hiding, but you said it, and Mick raised an eyebrow, amused.

 

    “Handsome devil, am I?” he asked good naturedly. You hummed in agreement. 

 

    “If anyone should’ve been getting stares all night, it’s you.”

 

    “I wouldn’t have really noticed, not when my mind’s on someone else.”

 

    “And who’s this someone else?” you asked.

 

    “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he replied, “Someone I can never stop thinking about.” He looked at you warmly, yet there was still a bit of nervousness in his eyes. Why? Was it because he was talking about his mystery girlfriend again? And didn’t  **that** thought just tank the mood.

 

    “I’m closin’ up, you two,” the bartender piped up, effectively ruining the comfortable atmosphere. You looked away from Mick’s intense gaze, standing up and putting a few steps of space between the two of you. Where was your courage now, you wondered.

 

    “She must be one lucky woman,” you told him quietly. You missed the confused and almost hurt look on his face when you stepped away from him. He stood up, taking a hesitant step towards you to close some of the distance.

 

    “I’d like to think that  **I’m** the lucky one,” he responded. You didn’t say anything else until the two of you returned to your room. For some reason, you just couldn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. The two of you had just had a great night after a beyond successful hunt, and then… Was it jealousy? Was that the feeling that made your heart ache whenever he talked about the mystery girlfriend? You didn’t know, but whatever it was was putting a strain on your friendship, and you needed to pull yourself together before you did something unbelievably stupid.

 

    “I’ll shower in the morning. You go ahead,” you told him, needing time to get your thoughts straight.

 

    “R-Right,” he replied. You heard him going through his bag for a change of clothes, and as you drifted off you could have swore you felt him press a kiss into your hair with a whispered, “Goodnight.”

 

XxX

 

_ Mick walks by me _

_ Can’t he tell that I can’t breathe?  _

_ And there he goes, so perfectly _

_ The kind of flawless I wish I could be _

 

_ She better hold him tight, _

_ Give him all her love, _

_ Look in those beautiful eyes,  _

_ And know she’s lucky ‘cuz _

  
  


    You put your notebook and pencil down, watching Mick leave the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea while occupied with a large book, impeccably dressed, per usual, and laser focused. The boys needed help researching the spells being used by the latest witch they’d encountered, and Rowena was nowhere to be found for her expertise. Mick volunteered without a moment’s hesitation and had been hard at work since. He’d already identified several spells, one particularly nasty, within his first half hour of researching, something that might’ve taken Sam, Dean, and Cas all night to find, and was only stumped when he got to the last one. He’d been sitting in the library for ages, murmuring under his breath possibilities, writing things down and crossing them out. Seeing him walking out of the kitchen looking nothing less than his normal perfect self, even after hours of mussing up his hair in frustration and sporadic occurrences of pacing, made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. Thankfully, the boys were out on a food run, so there were no teasing or expectant looks thrown your way. You got up after you heard him sigh and close yet another book.

 

    “You really should take a break, Mick,” you told him worriedly. “You’ve been in here for hours.”

 

    “But I’m so close. I  **know** I am. I just can’t remember the name…” he trailed off, suddenly springing up and grabbing a book from a stack at the other end of the table, one of his. “Maybe it’s in here—

 

    “Nope,” you declared, taking the book from him before he could even open it. He looked taken aback at the action. “You’ve been doing nothing but research all day, first for your boss and Ketch and then for the boys. You haven’t had a moment of rest since you woke up this morning.”

 

    “I have to get this done, love,” he protested.  _ Love _ . He’d been calling you that ever since that night at dinner and it never failed to make you smile when he did. Putting the book off to the side, you took his hands in yours and guided him back into the kitchen, stopping when you got to the table. Neither of you heard the door to the bunker open.

 

    “The boys’ll be home soon, and then we’ll be able to make dinner. Just take a break until after we’ve eaten. Please?” you asked, genuinely concerned that he would be researching into the late hours of the morning at this point. He looked at you with those beautiful green eyes of his and couldn’t help the smile that came to his face.

 

    “Alright,” he agreed quietly, rubbing your knuckles comfortingly, making you blush and look away.

 

    “Dammit,” you heard from the doorway, jumping back and pulling your hands from Mick’s. The two of you turned to see Dean handing Sam ten bucks as they made their way over to you, putting a few bags on the table.

 

    “Dean, what—

 

    “What’d I tell you?” Sam told him, cutting you off. You put two and two together and felt a bit insulted at the fact that the boys had bet on whether or not you’d gotten over your inner turmoil and gotten together with Mick, which was something you couldn’t really do at this point. Mick saw the look on your face, but you shook your head before he could say something.  _ Later _ , you told him with a look. He nodded minutely. As the boys washed up and put their gear away, you and Mick cooked dinner together in companionable silence. You couldn’t help watching him out of the corner of your eye at times. Even cooking he looked like he could do no wrong. Oh that lucky girl of his. She’d better treat him right, or else you would find her, and best of the best hunter or not you would end her.

 

XxX

 

    “I’ve got to report into HQ tonight, boys, but thanks for the offer,” you heard Mick tell them. The four of you had gone on a hunt together that day to investigate an assignment for the BMOL. Having found out much more than he was expecting, and finding information for a previously non-related case that was also on the BMOL radar, Mick was heading back to their HQ to tell Ketch and Hess and whoever else was there all about it. You shivered, imagining having to talk about the several changelings that you and the boys had discovered that day. This week had been an especially rough one, with too many close calls on cases and a run in with Ketch that left you with a sore hand and him with a broken nose. Cas was out looking for leads on Lucifer and the boys were planning on dropping by a friend’s who lived a few minutes away. All you wanted to do was grab your guitar and sheet music so you could clear your system of all the emotions threatening to burst to the surface. 

 

    “Coming, Y/n?” Dean asked, startling you out of your thoughts. You shook your head.

 

    “You two go on ahead. I’m heading back to the hotel,” you responded, eyeing the slightly bloody guitar sitting in your passenger seat. 

 

    “Alright then,” Dean mumbled. You caught a concerned look from from Sam, but waved him off. He sighed, but didn’t push. When you saw the Impala disappear down the road you let out a huge breath, leaning against your car and closing your eyes when your head made contact with it.

 

    “Are you going to be alright, love?” Mick asked you. You shook your head, too overwhelmed to pretend.

 

    “I just need a minute,” you responded. After a moment you sighed, pulling out your keys and getting into your car. As you started the engine and pulled out of the now abandoned house’s driveway, you couldn’t help watching Mick in the mirror, until he and the house were out of sight. You didn’t pay much attention to where you were going, only knowing that you passed the hotel at least ten minutes ago. You didn’t stop driving until you came across an empty field, nothing but grass and flowers beside the road as far as the eye could see. The sun had begun setting, but there was still enough light to write by. Grabbing your phone, notebook, a pencil, and your guitar, you walked a little ways into the field before plopping down, just laying down and looking up at the pinkening sky for a few minutes. 

 

    When you felt your thoughts stop racing, you picked up your guitar, strumming a few chords, tuning a string, and letting the familiar sound wash over you. You flipped open your notebook to the last page you’d worked on, notes and lyrics scribbled in the staff lines. You strummed the chords that had come to you last night, pausing to notate them before looking at the last set of lyrics you wrote and sighing. You checked the time, unable to stop your breath from catching as the screensaver of you and Mick greeted you, along with the time 5:25. You strummed the chords as new lyrics came to your mind, the words that had been swirling in your head on the drive there, and, not hearing the slam of a car door nearby, you sang.

 

    “ _ So I drive home alone. As I turn out the light, I’ll put his picture down and maybe get some sleep tonight! ‘Cuz he’s the reason for the teardrops on my guitar, the only one who’s got enough of me to break my heart. He’s the song, in the car, I keep singin’. Don’t know why I do. He’s the time, taken up, but it’s never enough, and he’s all that I need to fall into…” _ You couldn’t help the tears that came to your eyes as you thought about everything that had happened over the last few weeks. You had been a mess, and even though cases usually distracted you from the confusion that was your emotions, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d made one too many mistakes, like you’d driven a wedge between yourself and the boys, yourself and… “ _ Mick looks, at me. I, fake a smile so he won’t… See…” _

 

    You saw a tear land on your guitar and before you could ask yourself why a hand was gently wiping it away. You looked up to see Mick crouching down beside you and, without a thought, launch yourself into his arms, guitar laying forgotten beside your things. He shushed you softly as you clung to him for dear life, trying not to sob your eyes out. “I’m sorry,” you told him sadly. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He pulled back from you enough to take in your expression before you continued. “I’m happy for you. I-I really am. I just… I’m not… I’m being ridiculous.” You can’t meet his eyes, and it’s not until he tilts your chin up gently that you see the sad smile on his face.

 

    “You thought I found a girlfriend without telling you?” he questioned, shaking his head with a slight laugh. “I thought, after that night at dinner, I was being obvious, that you were upset about my feelings for you, and that’s why you stormed off. I never thought—

 

    “Your feelings… For  _ me _ ?” You stared back at him with all the hope you’d ever held that he might somehow, someway return your feelings. Everything that had happened since that night suddenly started making sense, and you laughed at how stupid you’d been. “I… Am an idiot,” you stated, smiling at him. He wiped away another tear.

 

    “You’re not an idiot,” he argued. “Just oblivious, love.” Tucking a stray hair behind your ear and cupping one of your cheeks, he leaned in, lips barely brushing yours, tentative, asking. You closed the distance between the two of you in the softest kiss you’d ever had, blushing up a storm. He went to pull away, but you chased after him, angling yourself you deepen the kiss. He hummed contently when you did, unable to keep a smile off his face, holding you closer. After a few more minutes the two of you finally stopped, reluctantly pulling away. You looked at how the setting sun lit up his eyes, the red on his cheeks, the loving smile that he couldn’t seem to get rid of, and wondered how you were lucky enough to deserve him. And if you lay in the field together, cuddled up and kissing under the stars that night? There’s no where you’d rather be in that moment than in his arms.


End file.
